


A Is For Apple

by Savageandwise



Series: A Is For Apple, Z Is For Zapple [1]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alphabet, Angst, Drabbles, M/M, McLennon, Work of fiction, first US tour, not my take on reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: This is what it feels like to make it. Standing on a balcony at three in the morning.John and Paul in New York during the first U.S. tour.Drabbles based on the letters of the alphabet.





	A Is For Apple

**Author's Note:**

> I started this new drabble series because I'm having so much fun doing them! 
> 
> I'm going to try to get through the alphabet. I hope you enjoy it! Please comment! I'm also taking suggestions for the next word prompt. So in this case it would mean words that start with 'B'.

This is what it feels like to make it. Standing on a balcony at three in the morning. The toppermost of the poppermost. His bride is in her room, his goodnight kiss still on her lips. From here on in only good things. Only the best.

A tremor ripples through the city like a beast dreaming of the hunt, muscles bunching and flexing in its sleep. John has never been in a place like this. A place so alive the air vibrates. He feels it deep in his chest, a tickle, akin to arousal. He won't sleep tonight. 

When he was a lad he tried to imagine how it would feel to make it. To have them scream his name in America, in New York. He imagined himself a hero of epic proportions, decked in flowers, pockets lined with gold. He always told Mimi he’d make it. And here he is now. 

Then why does it feel off? Why does it prickle under his skin like a splinter? What's missing? He peers down off the edge of the balcony. His stomach dips, he spreads his arms. The wind isn't strong enough to carry him away over the Atlantic.

John doesn't need to turn around to know someone is standing behind him. He keeps staring straight ahead but his heartbeat speeds up, his skin tightens. The air tastes different. Like it does just before a storm: that hint of flint and disaster. Tastes like Paul. Paul slides his arms around him, his hands clasp beneath his breastbone, his chin sharp on John's shoulder. He can feel how stiff Paul's cock is through the cotton of their pyjamas. It's not for him, John thinks. Paul's hard for the whole damn world, hungry for it. 

“Come back to bed,” Paul whispers.

“Sodom and Gomorrah out there,” John says, points out at the city stretched out before them, lights twinkling like jewels in a tiara. “The Big Apple.”

Paul lets out a short laugh. “I'll show you Sodom and fucking Gomorrah.”

“You would at that,” John says.

“Why so glum, love?”

“It's never going to be enough, is it?” John asks. He turns away from the city to face Paul.

“No. It's not. But then no one ever got to the toppermost by settling for enough. But first thing's first,” Paul breathes. He pulls John close, covers his mouth with his own and for just a moment, it's more than enough.


End file.
